


Juice Cleanses are Dumb

by lesbiancordy



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: AU after s4e10, Crack, Humor, M/M, post monster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 13:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18411176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiancordy/pseuds/lesbiancordy
Summary: It turns out, aside from the occasional bag of frozen peas, the monster wasn't really a fan of fruits and vegetables. Or brushing his teeth.Or,Eliot has scurvy and Quentin buys far too much fruit.





	Juice Cleanses are Dumb

**Author's Note:**

> AU after s4e10 where everyone is fine and not kidnapped or possessed or being kissed by Alice. I mean that in the nicest possible way.

It turns out, aside from the occasional bag of frozen peas, the monster wasn't really a fan of fruits and vegetables. Or brushing his teeth.

It's not something he immediately notices, obviously. What he immediately notices is the gaping wounds in his chest and the flimsy black axes sticking out of them. And then of course, the gorgeous eyes of the owner of said axes staring determinedly up at him; his Bambi. He'd barely breathed out her name before he'd passed out.

From what he was told the next day after he'd woken up, if he would have looked around the room before passing out he would have seen all of them; arranged in a similar formation to when they'd attempted to trap and kill the Beast (only this time, instead of the Rhinemann Ultra Margo would stab him with her totally cool, _not flimsy at all_ black axes). It was a last ditch effort, since they'd lost the tenuous trust they had with the monster, with stupid heroic Quentin playing the bait to lure him into their possible suicide mission. They were pretty fucking lucky it worked, from the sound of it, seeing as they had completely pulled this deus ex machina out of their asses. The monster hadn't put his sister together yet, another lucky break which they were probably due at this point. None of it solved the clusterfuck that was the library and their totalitarian bullshit, but one less immediate threat of death was definitely a win.

Less of a win? Cavities. He doesn't want to sound like an ungrateful asshole, since he is miraculously still alive somehow, but the sharp pain radiating throughout his jaw as he attempts to eat plain toast the day after he wakes makes him wish he _had_ died instead. He didn't voice this aloud of course, but somehow Quentin's kicked puppy face still floated in his mind until he begrudgingly took back the thought. He had perhaps gotten too used to consulting an imaginary Quentin about everything that crossed his mind. He was in the real world now; he could consult the real Quentin. He _wouldn't_ , but he _could_.

He had to go to a dentist. Like, a regular, muggle dentist. Ambient magic was still for shit, and they'd used everything they had to cast the spell to trap the monster and heal Eliot's chest wounds as best they could. Which wasn't much, as most of the magic was already gone when they got to that part. But he was alive, and he had to be grateful for that, even when his gums bled after he brushed them.

Q drove him, of course. It was quiet, but Eliot couldn't tell what kind yet. It wasn't awkward, but it wasn't quite comfortable either. He still insisted on accompanying him inside though, with Eliot only just managing to get him to stay in the waiting room and not follow him in like a concerned parent. He would have found it sweet were they literally anywhere else.

Three cavity fillings later he had walked into the waiting room with a numb, swollen mouth and a scowl on his face. Quentin's attention immediately fixed on him, dropping the magazine he had been staring straight through back onto the table. Eliot didn't mention until they were back in the car (when did they get a car? Eliot honestly didn't care enough to ask at this point) that they needed to make a stop at a pharmacy and pick up some vitamin c pills because the dentist, of all people, had diagnosed him with scurvy.

"Wait, what? Like, the pirate disease?" Q furrowed his brow in worry, staring at eliot instead of starting the car.  
"That's pretty insensitive, Q. It's a vitamin c deficiency and nowadays refugees and poor people are more likely to have it, not pirates. Shame on you." Quentin looked momentarily taken aback before he muttered an apology, an adorably confused frown on his face. Eliot neglected to mention that he had pretty much stolen that lecture word for word from his extremely judgemental dentist, after he himself had spoken derisively about the pirate disease. Q didn't need to know that part though, Eliot very rarely had the high ground. He didn't _really_ have it now, but it was close enough.

"Shouldn’t you maybe uh, go to an actual doctor?" Quentin asked, starting the car and avoiding looking at Eliot.  
Eliot waved his hand dismissively.  
"Waste of money. I just need vitamin c, a doctor will tell me the same thing and I don't want to have to pay yet another condescending middle aged man to judge my lifestyle choices."  
He could tell Q was biting back a bitchy comment at that. Damn, he needed to keep trying. Anyone in a ten mile radius could tell Quentin was in desperate need of a cathartic screaming meltdown, all that repressed rage in that tiny body wouldn't do him any good. But that was a problem for another day, clearly.

Later, back at Kady's penthouse, Eliot was just waking from his fourth nap of the day. Another downside to the whole getting possessed thing; he's exhausted all the fucking time. Though, as Quentin had earnestly informed him not ten minutes after they had arrived back from the dentist, tiredness was also a symptom of scurvy; which Q had already started researching, because of course he had. Maybe Eliot _shouldn't_ have insincerely guilt tripped him earlier.

On the table beside the couch he fell asleep on is a glass of water and his vitamins, and he already knows that this is Quentin's doing even before he hears the commotion in the kitchen.  
Swallowing the pills with a small sip of water, he wandered toward the noise to see the kitchen in disarray. Fruit littered every counter, some still in its packaging, some half cut open and momentarily forgotten about, some just leftover peel or pits scattered around the fresh untouched fruit like some sort of horrifying fruit battlefield. Quentin was stood in the middle of it all, meticulously cutting the fruit into small pieces and adding them to the blender in front of him. So focused on his task, he didn't notice Eliot watching him with a small smile on his face. He really loved this dork.

Eventually Quentin did notice him though, and Eliot was warmed to see that he didn't flinch instinctively at the sight of him, like he would have with the monster. Like Eliot half expected him to. Instead Quentin smiled nervously at him, face reddening slightly.  
"I'm uh...making juice..." He stuttered slightly, suddenly embarrassed about the mess he had made.  
"I can see that." Eliot smirked. The smirk dropped off his face when Quentin thrust a full glass of thick orange liquid into his hand, complete with a curly straw.  
"So it doesn't hurt your teeth." He had explained. Eliot was about to explain that his trepidation was more about it not having any alcohol in it than the stupid straw, but then he was hit full force with Sincere Coldwater Face, and there was nothing he could do now but drink the goddamn juice and appreciate how much the little fucker cared.

Eight glasses later and he appreciated it a whole lot less. Quentin was clearly overcompensating because of unnecessary guilt over the monster's misuse of Eliot's body, none of which was his fault of course. What was his fault, however, was the painful stomach cramps and at least half hour spent in the bathroom. As Julia had oh so helpfully pointed out afterwards, it was possible to have _too much_ vitamin c.  _Thanks_ , Julia. Vitamin c overdose, thankfully, just means frequent visits to the bathroom. _Lucky him_.

"So...you should probably just stick to the tablets...and eat like, a regular amount of fruit." Quentin had informed him, as if he wasn't the one who had just forced glass after glass of liquid heartburn down his throat with those sad puppy dog eyes.  
"Yeah, no shit."

Quentin's shoulders dropped, his hands coming up to cover his face. His shoulders started shaking. Oh no.

His panic morphed to confusion however when he heard the first snort of repressed laughter from Quentin, who was fighting like hell to not burst out laughing.  
"I'm sorry, I just.." He stopped, sighing and dropping tiredly onto the couch next to Eliot. "I tried to help, and I went overboard, and I gave you diarrhea. It's like, the perfect metaphor for my life."

Eliot smiled sympathetically at him, but didn't join in on Q's self deprecating laughter.

"Well that's just not true, but I'll humor you. Come here." He held his arms out and Quentin instantly sunk into his embrace, burying his face into Eliot's shoulder heedless of his now much bonier frame. Q had his eyes closed, his brow furrowed like it seemed to permanently be nowadays. Eliot would have to work on that. He smoothed his thumb over Quentin's eyebrows without thinking, causing Quentin to look up at him attentively once again.

He wanted to tell Quentin a lot of things. That he's helping him just by being here, that he's so fucking proud of him, that he loves him. That he's ready to be brave.  
But he doesn't tell him any of that.  
Instead he leans forward and sloppily pecks him on the forehead, his mouth still a bit numb and dribbly. He forgot, when he was trapped in his own head, just how gross inhabiting a body was. Today had been a stark reminder. He supposes he now has one thing other than boning Q in common with Alice.

To his dismay, Quentin's frown only deepens, but this time with annoyance.

"Really? You're doing that again?" He asked in a tone that conveyed just how little patience he had remaining.  
It was Eliot's turn to frown in confusion now at Quentin's sudden 180 mood flip.

"Huh? Q, I'm not quite follo-" his sentence was cut off as Quentin crashed his lips into his, their combined lack of coordination right now be damned. He pulled away just as quickly.

"Don't 'no homo' me El, I've sucked your dick." He said seriously.  
Quentin always managed to surprise him.

A grin broke out on Eliot's face, unabashed and genuine. They really should talk, about everything they both know needs to be said.  
"Q...I'm sorry. I'm...-" But Quentin cut him off again with another kiss, more insistent and needy this time.  
They should talk, okay, but maybe not right now.

"Let's not over-think this, right?" Quentin said, searching Eliot's eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for he seemed to have found it, as Eliot could almost see some anxiety drain out of him.  
"Right," Eliot smiled, "though, I think this time we should try not to under-think it either, we tend to over correct sometimes."  
Rolling his eyes but smiling, Quentin agreed.

They knew that this time they would actually have to have all those hard talks. Eventually. For now though, in this little bubble, they could decide to not over-think things for just a little bit longer.

**Author's Note:**

> All medical information pulled out of my ass and a quick skim of Wikipedia. Also sorry if I inexplicably change tenses I've had a lot of codeine.
> 
> In that scene in s3 where Eliot kisses Q's forehead eps after they've spent a lifetime together I like to think Quentin's grumpy face is because he thinks he's getting 'no homo'd by the gayest guy he knows.


End file.
